Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance
by rmarie882
Summary: Game novelization. All Ike wanted was to live up to his father's expectations and earn his place in the Greil Mercenaries. Fate had a different plan for him.
1. Prologue: Mercenaries

Prologue: Mercenaries

A staccato clack echoed between the tree trunks. Light filtered through the pine branches, casting sharp lines across the scarred edge of another length of wood. One stripped of bark and sanded smooth. One wrapped in leather at the end for a more comfortable grip. A practice sword.

Two figures danced along a trail of packed earth. The smaller shouted as he attacked, slashing down at his opponent with both hands clenched around his weapon. His untidy blue hair swayed against the band of green fabric he wore tied around his forehead. Dirt caked his tunic and trousers.

His opponent stood upright and collected, one hand held almost behind his back. Taunting. He wouldn't need it to give the _boy_ he faced a sound thrashing. His silvered brown hair barely stirred as he blocked each of the boy's blows with ease.

Sensing an opening, the more seasoned warrior slashed at his opponent's stomach. The boy dodged, swiftly stepping backwards out of the wooden sword's reach. Even bruised and gasping for breath, he felt his lips twitch in a small smile. Greil was the greatest warrior he had ever known—and for the first time, he felt as though he might be holding his own.

Greil stabbed under his guard and caught him in the ribs, knocking him flat on his back.

"Well, Ike?" he asked. His voice rumbled, an affectionate growl. "Have you had enough?"

Ike's lungs screamed for air. He gasped as he struggled to push himself upright, his elbows catching in the scarlet folds of his cape. Greil loomed over him like a figure from legend. His stern gaze over the arch of his nose. The golden drape of his cape against his black tunic. Even with the deep creases that framed his mouth, it was sometimes difficult to think of him as a grizzled old mercenary. As a child, Ike had sworn the man must be a knight.

Not like this, Ike thought then, meeting Greil's eye. He couldn't lose like this again. He lunged to his feet with a defiant roar. Greil caught the blow. For a moment, they stood motionless, their wooden swords locked together. Ike thought he saw Greil chance a small smile of his own.

"Father! Ike!"

Greil turned his head, searching for the source of the call. Ike risked a glance himself. The voice floated along the path ahead of a young girl dressed in yellow. Her honeyed brown hair drifted in a breeze as she ran, just brushing her shoulders. A blue scarf mimicked the motion around her neck. She raised a hand to wave.

Greil lowered his sword. "Oh, Mist."

That was it. The opening Ike needed. He charged, a triumphant cry tearing through his throat. This time for sure.

Greil stepped to the side, letting Ike's momentum carry him into empty space. Then, almost with an air of boredom, he cracked his sword across the boy's back. Ike tumbled to the ground again.

"Ike?" He did not see Mist pause, but he heard the uncertain shift in her steps. "Oh no!"

The world faded as he lay face-down in the dirt.

 _Ike was a child again. He lay in bed with a quilt pulled up to his chin. Somewhere nearby, a woman hummed a comforting melody, gently patting his arm over the cloth. He turned his head to look at her. Blue hair like his. She smiled._

"Mother?"

The image vanished, torn apart by sunbeams. Ike sat up. He felt groggy, like someone had stuffed his head with wool. Something yellow slipped to the ground beside his knee. Frowning, he bent to pick it up. A damp handkerchief. Someone must have put it on his forehead while he dreamed.

Notes shimmered through the air behind him. The same song he had heard in his vision. Startled, he found his feet and looked around. The forest no longer surrounded him. Instead, he stood in a grassy field at its edge. A mountain stabbed into the sky in the distance. A lake glistened in the sun. Not far from it, Mist knelt in a patch of flowers, picking any bloom that caught her eye. Butterflies hovered around her as she hummed.

"Mist," Ike murmured as he approached, "that song."

She blinked at him, and then grinned. "Ah, you're up. About time!"

Ike had never noticed before. In that moment, she looked exactly like their mother.

"Are you alright?"

He must have looked dazed. Shaking his head as though to clear cobwebs, he said, "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"So, the sleeping prince awakens!"

Greil's laugh rumbled across the field. He must have been watching them the entire time.

"Father!" Mist made a face. Puckered and angry like her tone. "I can't believe you. I know those are practice swords, but they're still heavy. You have no right to be so rough on Ike."

Greil regarded her seriously. "If this is too much for the boy, he'll never make it as a mercenary."

Heat flared along the curves of Ike's ears. His hands clenched into fists. He knew his father was right, but did he have to call Ike _the boy_ while talking to Mist?

"But—" his sister began.

"Mist, you don't have to worry," Ike said quickly. "I told you, I'm fine."

Greil laughed again. "You'd better be. Now, grab your sword and get ready."

"What?" Mist demanded. "Don't tell me you're going at it again!"

"Just until I land a single blow," Ike assured her. "I'm not giving up until I can get one good hit on Father."

A grin split Greil's stern features. "I like your resolve, Ike. But it takes more than a strong will to . . . Hm?"

He turned towards the gap where the path cut through the forest. Another boy emerged from the trees. He stood around Ike's height, but was slightly more muscular. An orange band kept his green hair out of his eyes.

"Aha! I knew I'd find you here," he said.

Mist smoothed her hands over her dress. When she spoke, though, her tone was off-hand. "Hi, Boyd. What brings you here?"

"Nothing special," Boyd answered with an airy shrug. "You said you were going to get the boss, but you never came back. I got picked to check on you."

Mist threw her hands over her mouth, blue eyes wide. "Oh! Sorry, I got caught up with Ike and my father."

"It's nothing. Besides, I figured I'd get a good laugh watching Ike get worked over by the boss."

Ike watched the exchange through narrowed eyes. The two had always bantered, comfortably tugging at each other's triggers. It had never bothered him before. Lately, though, watching them talk made him feel itchy. Like the time he had accidentally brushed a plant that hadn't agreed with him.

When Boyd turned away from his conversation, his wide grin faded. "You . . . look fine. What happened?"

"Nothing at all," Ike said. "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Mist snickered. "You missed it. Just a minute ago, he was out cold."

"Mist!" protested Ike.

"Sorry," she sang, still laughing.

Ike may have found a few more choice words to share with his _darling little sister_ , but Greil chose that moment to hold the battered length of a training sword under his nose. He took it with an uncertain frown. What was this about?

"You came at just the right time, Boyd," Greil said. He found the wooden practice axe he had left propped against a tree and thrust it at the younger warrior's chest. "You can be Ike's sparring partner."

"What? Me?" Boyd asked.

Greil made a thoughtful sound, half consideration and half assent. "I'm beginning to think it would be better if he sparred with someone closer to his own skill."

The words stung a little. Ike had thought he was improving. He had come so close to landing a hit in their last match. But if his father thought this was best . . .

"I understand," Ike said reluctantly. "Thanks for your help, Boyd."

Boyd snorted, but he turned the practice axe over in his hand, testing its weight as he took his position on the field. Cautiously, Ike settled into his stance opposite his new opponent. He checked his grip. His family stepped back to the trees to watch.

"I don't know about this 'closer to his skill' business," Boyd complained, "but I'm ready. Let's go!"

Ike circled, watching Boyd's face. His smirk. The fierce light in his eyes. The movement of his shoulders. As long as he stayed back, Ike knew he was safe. His sword had a greater reach than the short handle of Boyd's axe. But Boyd was bigger than he was, and Ike had seen him spar with the other mercenaries in his father's company. Even with a wooden weapon, Boyd had a mighty swing. The type that could crush bone.

His hesitance widened Boyd's smirk into an outright grin. "Hey! What's the holdup? Let's get started already."

"I'm coming," Ike assured him. "Wait right there."

As if Boyd would ever stand back and wait for a fight to come to him. Ike shifted his grip and lunged forward. The exertion tore a battle cry from his lips. He struck high, as he had in his match with his father. Boyd caught the swing on the blunted crescent of his axe and pushed it aside, then changed direction to slash up under Ike's guard. Ike threw himself backwards. A near miss.

"You can do it!" Mist shouted from the trees. "Boyd's got nothing! Take him out!"

Boyd gaped at her, outraged. "Nothing? I don't have nothing. I mean, I have—I mean . . ."

His sputtering gave Ike the opening he needed. He swung again, catching Boyd's arm near the elbow. A spasm shook through Boyd's hand. He dropped his axe. Ike followed with another powerful overhand cut, but Boyd rolled out of the way. The sword hit the ground with a muted thump, leaving a dusty dent in the dirt.

Boyd found his feet with a firm grip on his axe and an untarnished grin. "I'm not done yet. We're just getting started."

Ike growled to himself. Boyd's ego was starting to annoy him. He charged again, hammering Boyd with strike after strike. The other boy turned each blow away without ever giving up ground. He clipped Ike's side. Then his shoulder. He made it look easy—the same way Greil had.

Wait. An eerie sort of calm spread over Ike, trickling down to his fingertip, stilling his frantic attack. His feet shifted in the grass. His back straightened. Maybe that was it. Boyd scowled at him and chopped down at his head. Ike swatted the blow aside. He _knew_ his weapon had a greater reach, and if he knew that . . .

Ike stabbed forward, driving the tip of his sword into Boyd's chest. Just like Greil had done to him. Boyd stumbled, and fell flat on his back. He lay there for a moment, fighting for his breath, and then started to laugh.

"That—that wasn't too bad."

"Boyd, you're such a loser!" Mist called.

"Shut your trap!" he shouted back.

They grinned at each other, Boyd still gasping for breath, until Greil frowned.

"Good work, Boyd," he said. "That's enough."

"Oh." Boyd rolled to his feet. "All right."

He trotted off the field. Ike thought he might stand next to Mist so the two could keep whispering and giggling together, but Boyd kept his distance. He glanced at Greil as though he had been scolded. That was strange, but trying to work out why made Ike itchy again. He let it drop.

Greil kept his eyes on his son. "Your swordsmanship was decent enough, Ike. Don't forget how it felt. It won't always be this easy."

"I know," Ike said.

Nodding, Greil added, "Now that you're done warming up, it's time for you to face me again."

Ike tried not to smile. "I was hoping you'd say that."

His father _did_ smile. The same wolf's smile Ike felt twitching its way onto his own lips. Then, all at once, it faded.

"But first," he said thoughtfully, "Mist!"

"Right here."

She dashed cheerfully over the grass to drop a small burlap pouch into her brother's hands. "Here you go, Ike. It's a vulnerary. I'd recommend using it now, before you fight father." She winked. "Last time, he knocked you silly."

"I know what it is," Ike grumbled.

Mist puffed out her cheeks and turned on her heel, but the face she showed her father when they crossed paths was as fresh as the light sparkling on the lake. Normally, the change in mood would annoy Ike, but he couldn't take his eyes off his father's approach. Tiny waves of lightning seemed to crawl over Ike's bare arms and through his hair. Somehow, this felt like his last chance. He had to prove himself.

"Always take time to heal your wounds in battle," Greil said. "By time you think you're in trouble, it's probably too late. Don't get into that situation."

Obediently, Ike pulled one of the three soft chunks of medicine out of the pouch and popped it into his mouth. It tasted vile. No doubt the company healer made the awful concoction of roots and herbs with the best intentions, but no amount of good will could soften the sharp, weedy bite. Ike forced himself to chew and swallow. His bruises faded. His aches dulled. He tied the remaining portions to his belt.

Greil tested his grip and his footing, and then extended his sword in challenge. "Get ready, Ike—here I come. Give it your all."

Something about the match with Boyd must have impressed him more than he said. For the first time in Ike's memory, his father attacked first. Ike fumbled to get his sword up. Greil smashed through his guard, snapping his blade across Ike's thigh. Ike stumbled, but did not fall. Shouting through the pain, he retaliated with a slash that glanced off Greil's shoulder.

Ike staggered back, circling out of range. He limped. His foot tingled on the edge of numbness, and his thoughts ricocheted between triumph and confusion. He had done it. He had finally landed a blow on his father. Why did he feel disappointed?

"Come on, boy," Greil growled as he shook out his shoulder. "You going to give me a challenge this time around?"

Ike could have attacked, but he knew no good would come of it if he could hardly feel his leg. He pulled a second dose of vulnerary out of the pouch on his belt and chewed it, wincing at its bitterness. Watching for his father's reaction. Did he imagine that relief flashed across Greil's face? The tingling faded.

So did Greil's patience. He swung his sword like a scythe, cutting across Ike's shoulder. The boy countered quickly, landing a second hit before they parted again. Thanks to the vulnerary, Greil was more winded than his son. His breath came heavily. The tip of his sword wavered. Ike pressed his advantage, darting close and cracking his sword across his father's stomach.

Greil fell to his knees with a groan.

"Ike!" Mist cheered. "You were great!"

He wished he could share her excitement. Sliding his sword into his belt, Ike approached his father and offered his hand, helping the older warrior to his feet.

"Father," he said slowly, "you were holding back, weren't you?"

Mist stopped short. "What? Is that true?"

Chuckling, Greil accepted a pouch of vulnerary from his daughter. "If you could tell the difference, it means you're improving."

"You know, I wasn't really giving it my all either."

Ike startled. He hadn't noticed Boyd join them. Mist shot him an exasperated glare.

"That is such a lie," she said.

Boyd made a frustrated sound and tried to ruffle her hair. Ike decided to ignore them.

"So, Father, does that mean you finally admit that I'm ready?" he asked.

Greil feigned a startled look. At least, Ike thought he feigned it. "What, to join the company? To take on a job?"

"Yeah." Ike swallowed. He wished he sounded more confident. This was a big step. "I mean, Boyd's already out on the battlefield. I'm ready. I'm tired of being a trainee."

He winced. That probably could have been worded better. Boyd noticed too.

"Listen," the mercenary said, "the difference between you and me is that I'm a professional."

"A professional that just got beat," Mist taunted.

"That was just random chance," Boyd protested. His voice squeaked a little. Despite his bravado, he was still quite young. As though to convince himself, he repeated, "Random chance."

Greil sighed. "You've got a point, Ike. All right. Tomorrow will be your first day as a full-fledged mercenary."

"Really?" Ike tried not to sound too eager. He suspected that he failed.

"But," Greil said sharply. He had definitely failed. "If I think it's too much, you're back to trainee status. You'd better work hard."  
"No problem. Watch—I'll catch up to everyone in no time."

"We'll see. We'd better be heading back to the fort. Everyone's waiting."

That calmed Ike's excitement. He followed the others to the path through the forest, but he could not quite manage the same bounce in his step. A pit formed in his stomach. Everyone was _not_ waiting back at the fort. The most important person was away, studying in some dark library in the capital. The same person who had taught him to take advantage of his opponent's distraction. His best friend.

He wished he could have shared this moment with him.

.

.

.

A/N: First, I know, game text. But let me explain.

My name is Rachael. I've been playing Fire Emblem games ever since Path of Radiance came to North America in 2005. It was the first video game I ever beat. And, to be honest, one of my greatest writing teachers. I'll never forget what it was like to sit with my sister in front of the tv and play this wonderful game for the very first time. We had waited ages for this chance. You see, we had fallen in love with Eliwood and the other characters from Rekka no Ken through the internet, but we had missed our chance to play it because we didn't have gameboys. The cube was our salvation.

Now that Nintendo is gearing up to release the first console Fire Emblem since we left Tellius in 2007, I've pulled out my wii and my cube controller and fired up the nostalgia again. But this time, I want to take other people on the journey with me. I've noticed some alarming trends in how people characterize Ike after his Smash Brothers debut-and that the price of a Path of Radiance disk online these days borders on atrocious. My hope is that turning my experience of the game into a work of fan fiction might allow those without access to the game to at least enjoy the story and the characters.

Maybe I'm just an old fart now, but I still think Tellius had one of the best story lines in the series.

So that's it. Fire Emblem helped shape me into the writer I am today. This is my way of giving back.

Enjoy~


	2. Chapter One: The Battle Begins

Chapter One: The Battle Begins

Morning came too soon. And not soon enough. Ike spent most of the night either tossing under his well-patched quilt or staring up through the darkness at his ceiling. Worries for the next day rattled through his thoughts. He wasn't ready. He _was_ ready. If he went with the others on a job, he would have to kill someone. It was even more likely that someone would kill him.

Sleep must have smothered his nerves at some point. He woke to the soft touch of the sunlight that filtered through his small window. He threw his covers aside and hoisted himself upright. This was it. No more mental rehearsals. His first day as a mercenary had come. He sorted through his feelings as he stumbled from his bed to his roughly carved clothes chest and wash stand. Pride. Excitement. A splash of cool water swept away the last of his lingering fears. He couldn't let them control him. They would only hold him back.

When he pulled his deep blue tunic over his head, a wave of disappointment rolled through him. It was silly, he thought as he strapped his leather armour on over his chest. Mercenaries lived from job to job, making do with what they had and letting nothing go to waste. That was why he never complained of the odd mash of colours in his wardrobe, or the strips of old cloth and leather he used to guard his arms. He was simply thankful for the warmth and protection.

Still, he thought as he fastened his cloak around his neck, some sort of uniform would have made his transition from trainee to company member feel more official.

He knew that was only the slightest portion of his disappointment. One thought from the night before refused to fade. He had always imagined that he would charge into his first job with his best friend at his side. Brothers in arms fighting back to back. He scowled at his window. Melior was in that direction, wasn't it? He wondered if his friend thought of home.

Wish me luck, he thought. Wherever you are.

Ike snorted, amused with himself. That friend had no use for luck. Mercenaries lived by their wits. Squaring his shoulders, he pushed through his door. Time to face the day.

..

The hub of all activity in the fort was the war room. It sat at the centre of everything, a bright room with long windows that cast bars of light across the floorboards. The open spaces between the rafters made the room feel bigger than it actually was. A pair of crossed poleaxes flanked by rows of spears decorated one stone wall, a grim reminder of the dangerous life the mercenaries led.

Ike found his father bent over a worn table strewn with maps. Next to him, a woman who wore her long red hair in a single loose braid down her back stood at attention. Her posture was eerily militant, even for the fort. As was her armour. Gold trimmed the gleaming silver plates. The crimson tunic she wore underneath, though threadbare now, had once been fine cloth. A knight's costume. This was Titania, his father's right hand.

She sensed his approach and turned to greet him, her green eyes smiling. "Good morning, Ike. Today's your first day as a professional soldier, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and I'm all ready to go," Ike answered.

"What you are," Greil rumbled without looking up from his maps, "is late. The others were suited up and ready at the break of dawn."

Ike's heart gave a painful thump. He knew that tone.

"Sorry. I'll get up earlier from now on." Ike paused, searching for his lost confidence. Refusing to start the day with a shaking voice. "So, what's my first job?"

Greil leaned closer to the table, using his fingers to estimate the distance between two points on a map. "I'm talking with Titania right now. Wait outside until we're done."

"Yes, sir."

Ike closed the door carefully on his way out, not daring to disturb the meeting with any more of his unnecessary noise. Once he was out of sight in the hall, he leaned forward to rest his forehead on a cool stone wall. Stupid! What had made him think he could waltz into the war room like that? He was sure none of the others would dare to interrupt. He swayed back so he could tap his head on the stone again, punishing himself. No special treatment for the commander's son. Only a lifetime of following orders.

Blindly following orders will get you killed some day. The thought came unbidden on the echo of a friend's calculated voice. Never march into an unknown situation without gathering all the information you can first.

Ike hesitated. The idea that had crept out from the darker corners of his mind was wrong. He knew that. But his first job was an awfully big unknown, and he and Mist had eavesdropped on meetings often enough in their younger years.

Stepping silently, he crept out of the fort's central building and around a corner. He pressed his back to the wall next to one of the narrow windows. The angle from inside, he knew, was too sharp for a person at the table to see him there. The arch of the entrance and a screen of scraggly bushes kept him hidden from other eyes outside.

Voices drifted out through the open space at his elbow. He quieted his breath to hear them better.

"Very well, Commander Greil," Titania said. "Shall we continue?"

Paper rustled. "You were telling me about some bandits that needed taking care of, weren't you?"

"Correct. The request comes from a nearby village. According to our reports, the bandits are not all that strong. I think it best if I ride out and take a look. I plan to take Oscar and Boyd with me."

"Just the brothers?" Greil made a thoughtful sound. "Go ahead and add Ike to your team. Shinon, Gatrie, and I can handle the other two jobs easily enough."

The lightning from the day before returned, rippling over Ike's skin. He really had a mission. He was going to help Titania chase away bandits. In his excitement, he almost missed his father's next words.

"Titania, I'm leaving Ike in your care." Greil spoke softly, willing her to understand something he _wasn't_ saying. "I'm trusting you to show him the ropes."

"Understood, Commander," she replied.

Ike held his breath until he saw Greil stride out beneath the arch towards the men who guarded the gate. The trapped air left his lungs as a startled yelp when Titania appeared in the window beside him. Her eyes narrowed slyly. If she disapproved of his actions, though, she said nothing of it.

"Come on, Ike," she ordered. "Let's get you set up."

She vanished, leaving Ike alone again. He took a moment to collect himself before he stepped out into the open.

"All right," he said. "My first job."

Please, he added silently. Let it go better than my morning.

Ike met Titania in a walled courtyard with two gates. It filled the space between the fort's three buildings, offering both a training yard and a space for the mercenaries to assemble before jobs. A few small trees provided a shady place to enjoy the company's rare stretches of down time.

Boyd waited next to one of these with a sharpened axe strapped to his back and an expression of annoyed boredom spread across his face. Beside him, a slightly older man who shared his straight nose and green hair stroked a chestnut gelding's neck, murmuring quietly in the horse's ear.

"Captain Titania." The man took his mount's reins in one hand and retrieved a sturdy lance with a leaf-shaped blade from where it rested against the wall. "Preparations are complete, and I'm ready to go."

Titania returned his easy smile. "Impeccable timing. It's nice to know we can count on you to be at the ready, Oscar."

She glanced sidelong at her newest charge as she spoke. Ike stared at his feet.

"Don't forget about me," Boyd said. "I'm ready for action."

Titania raised her slender brows. "Is that so, Boyd? That's a surprise."

He laughed. "Not today, it isn't. As of today, I am going to be the absolute model of perfection. I need to set a good example for Ike."

He seemed so confident in the statement. No one dared to contradict him.

"I'll take your word for it," Ike said doubtfully.

"Your first campaign at last." Oscar sounded wistful, perhaps remembering his own first day. "I know you've wanted this for a while. Are you nervous, Ike?"

Ike felt his ears begin to redden under the cavalier's steady gaze. That was right. He had been so focused on one friend's absence that he had forgotten about the friends he still had within the fort's walls. Oscar had always supported him in his training. Titania too. Even Boyd, in his own way.

"I think I was more nervous last night," Ike answered honestly. "I could hardly sleep. This morning, I'm feeling pretty good. It's the calm before the storm."

That last bit was partly true. He _had_ been feeling good that morning. He was less certain of that now.

"You should try to relax," Oscar told him. "You're not going to be alone out there."

Ike nodded. It was hard to resist Oscar's calm. "Yeah, you're right."

"Right." Titania said. Her tone was clear. Enough small talk. "Let's go."

The company took to the road, Ike and Boyd trailing behind the older warriors on mules. Even if the company had the funds to keep horses for all of its members, the two boys had no great skill for horsemanship. Mules were an affordable alternative that allowed them to move quickly between jobs even if they preferred not to ride into battle. Once they left the wooded valley that sheltered their fort, the road grew steep and rocky. Slow going even on mounts. It gave Ike plenty of time to doubt himself.

"If you don't mind, captain, maybe you could use this time to brief us on what we're getting into."

Oscar's reasonable tone brought a welcome break in their silent march. Titania glanced at him. From the twist in her lips, Ike expected her to bark something about keeping quiet and following orders. Instead, she sighed.

"All right," she said. "There's a village up ahead called Caldea. The people there have hired us to drive off some bandits."

The brothers each made different faces: Oscar contemplative, and Boyd resigned. This was the first time they had heard the details of their job. Ike felt a lump of guilt in his throat. He should have trusted that Titania would share what they needed to know before ordering them into battle.

Titania continued in an even tone. "There aren't many of them, but we can't get careless. It sounds like their leader has set himself up in a big building at the north end. Our mission is to take him out and recapture that building."

The mercenaries voiced their understanding—their own kind of salute. Boyd bumped Ike's shoulder with his usual smirk.

"Hey, Ike," he said, "listen up! All this stuff is old news to me, but I can give a rookie like you a few tips."

Oh, good, Ike thought glumly, more sage advice from the reckless wonder. Still, he made himself listen. Even Boyd could muster a useful insight now and then.

Boyd rattled on, oblivious. "First off, don't let yourself get worked up and jump out in front of everyone. You'll just end up getting hurt."

Noticing their conversation, Oscar fell in on Ike's other side.

"Don't try to do too much. When things get dangerous, you can—and should—rely on us." He clapped a steady hand over Ike's shoulder. "As long as you watch how the enemy moves carefully, you'll be fine. Think of this as a training mission."

"I'll do that," Ike assured him. "Oscar, Boyd, thanks for your help."

"Don't mention it," Oscar said.

Boyd offered them his brightest grin. "Just sit back and watch how a professional handles things."

From the front of their ragged column, Titania growled. "Enough chitchat you three! We've got work to do."

..

The village of Caldea clung to a cliff above the sea. Ike could hear the waves crashing against the rocks as he and Boyd tied their horses' reins to an outlying fence. The wind picked up, dragging its salted fingers through Ike's hair. Part of him wished they had come on peaceful business. Boyd did not seem to share his flash of regret. He unslung his axe and gave it an experimental swing, warming himself up for the battle ahead. Titania beckoned them both behind the wooden bulk of a house. The bandits had not posted a watchman, but that did not mean they weren't running patrols.

"Here's the plan," Titania whispered. "I need the two of you to scout ahead. Our mission is easier if the bandit's don't realize we're here, and mounted warriors will only draw attention. Shout if you get into trouble. It won't take long to find you in a small village like this."

Ike slid his sword out of its sheath and followed Boyd around the side of the house. The village _was_ small. A handful of buildings with fenced yards. Not many places to hide. The only building with a second storey loomed over the other houses from the far end of the main path. That must be where the leader had settled.

They kept out of clear sightlines, darting from wall to shrub as silently as they could. The paths between houses were empty even of villagers. The bandits seemed secure in their grip on the place. Still, Ike's pulse pounded in his ears. At any moment, he felt, everything could change.

As Boyd peered around a corner ahead of him, Ike heard something rustle at their backs. He turned, slashing out with his sword. The blade bit into soft tissue. Startled by the unfamiliar sensation, Ike staggered backwards. He hesitated. Just for a moment, but it was enough. The bandit roared in rage and challenge and chopped down with his axe. It curved off the armour that covered Ike's shoulder, but cut into his arm. Blood soaked his cloth and leather guards. Gasping, Ike answered with a blind thrust. He struck air.

Boyd shouldered him out of the way, shouting a challenge of his own as he swung _his_ axe up in a lethal arc. It cut deep into the bandit's ribs. He crumpled in a bulky heap.

"What's going on out there?" an unfamiliar voice bellowed. "Is that some sort of army?"

The brief skirmish had drawn the mercenaries to the edge of the main path. A man with dirty turquoise hair and more muscle than Ike and Boyd together stood scowling on the largest building's steps. Boyd shoved Ike into the shelter of a doorway. Ike shuddered. He could still see the dead bandit's body over Boyd's shoulder. It was the first time he had ever watched a man die.

"Idiot!" Boyd hissed in his face. "Are you going to fall to pieces now? This is what we _do_. Get it together, will you?"

Out on the steps, the bandit leader spat a sound of disgust. "A bunch of mercenaries looking for their next meal. The villagers must have hired 'em."

Boyd swore under his breath and dragged Ike around the corner he had checked moments before. Ike could feel their plan crumbling out from under them.

"Listen up, lads!" the bandit leader continued. "Hurt 'em, and hurt 'em bad! We let this bunch live, and we'll have hordes of hired swords hounding us the rest of our days."

Hushed conversation blossomed not far from where the two young mercenaries crouched. Men roused from their rest. Ike heard them, but he couldn't make sense of what they said. The image of the man Boyd had killed refused to leave his mind. The look of shock on his face before he collapsed. Ike's hand shook, rattling his sword against the wall he hid behind.

Boyd grabbed his wrist, pulling his back into the present.

"It's those fool villagers," a bandit said. "They think they can buy a bunch of sellswords to chase us away." More than one man chuckled. "It ain't gonna work out how they wanted. All they get for their trouble is a bunch of ruined houses."

Boyd swore again, and held an accusing finger in front of Ike's nose. "This is your fault."

Hefting his axe, Boyd charged out into the open, barreling into a lean, silver-haired swordsman. They traded blows, but the weight of Boyd's weapon slowed him down. He needed help. Ike took a steadying breath. He could do this.

"Oscar!" Boyd yelled.

"Tear 'em down!" a bandit shouted at the same time. "That'll teach 'em!"

Smoke spewed into the air as flames crackled through a house. Ike dashed after Boyd in time to see the fire's light flash across the tip of a lance. If Boyd's cry for help hadn't summoned their allies, the smoke had. Oscar charged across the path between them. Except for the pounding of his horse's hooves and a few soft _hup_ s of effort, he fought silently, slashing to either side of his mount with practiced efficiency.

"Ike, evacuate that house!"

Oscar pointed across the village with his lance before he shifted his grip and drove it into the swordsman's neck. There, a giant of a man lumbered towards a house with a torch in one hand and an axe in the other. Chips interrupted the gleaming curve of the blade. He used it often.

I can do this, Ike reminded himself. He chewed the last portion of his vulnerary as he ran. He should have restocked before he left the fort, but the company's healer had been ill for some time. Supplies had grown dangerously low. At least his arm stopped bleeding.

He and the bandit giant reached the corner of the house at the same time. Ike didn't think. He swung his sword, slicing through the man's fingers. The torch dropped harmlessly to the ground. Still carried by the momentum that had brought him across the path, Ike sidestepped a scything cut from the bandit's axe and stabbed upwards. His blade sank into the man's chest.

Get sick later, Ike ordered himself. There was still the house to evacuate. He pulled his word free and ducked through the door.

Small windows kept the inside of the house dim. Ike blinked, willing his eyes to adjust to the half-light. He thought he saw a family huddled against the back wall.

"You need to go," he told them urgently. "They're burning houses."

Realizing that he was not one of the bandits, a timid brown-haired woman stepped forward. Ike altered his assessment when she passed through a patch of light. There was steel in her eyes.

"We won't go," she said. "Since those bandits took over, we can't even sleep at night. But this is our home. Please! Help us save it."

"It's not safe here," Ike insisted.

The woman shook her head and offered him a tightly wrapped bundle of cloth with hands that shook. "Here. My mother left me this. I hope it serves you well."

Ike did not know what else to do. He took the bundle and fastened it to his belt. I guess I'll just have to make sure those bandits can't destroy anything else, he thought as he met the woman's eyes again. He nodded once, and then stepped back into the battle.

Smoke hung low in the air outside, filling Ike's nose with its acrid scent and stinging at his eyes. He tugged a fold of his cloak over the lower half of his face and squinted through the haze. Oscar had felled another swordsman. The cavalier bled from a half dozen different cuts, but he seemed determined to ignore them. Instead of healing himself, he stabbed at an axe fighter who had targeted Boyd.

"Use a vulnerary!" Boyd screamed at his brother.

Oscar ignored him too.

One person was missing from the battle. Ike searched the village for Titania, and found her confronting the bandit leader where he stood on the steps. Closer now, Ike noticed that he had a pinched, unpleasant face.

"Surrender," she told him.

He spat at the ground under her horse's hooves.

"You looking for something, fool? You looking for a fight?" The bandit laughed without humour. "You came to the right place. I'll give you a tussle."

Not a muscle twitched in Titania's face. She spurred her horse away from the man's first wild swing and cut him down with two swift slashes from her axe. The bandit leader fell to his knees with a sickening gurgle.

"I . . . I'm meant for better than this," Ike heard him say with his last breaths. "I don't want to die here."

Titania swung down from her saddle. Blood dripped from the blade of her axe. Ike fought a wave of nausea when he noticed that it ran down the edge of his sword as well. What was he supposed to do about that? Wipe it on his cloak? He looked to the others for help, but their stream of advice had run dry.

"Oscar, heal your wounds," Titania ordered. "Ike, come here."

Ike remembered what Boyd had said. Certain that he was about to be busted back to trainee, he crossed the village to stand at her side. Once there, he paused. He had expected to find many emotions etched onto Titania's face. Regret was not one of them. She looked him over once and retrieved a cloth from her saddlebag.

"Clean your blade with this," she told him.

Relieved, he took it and began to wipe away the blood.

"Did you hear what he said?" Titania asked.

Not certain he could trust his voice, Ike nodded.

"The opponents we face are people too. Never forget that." Something in her changed then. Her briskness returned. "That's the end of it. Ike, are you all right?"

Ike finished cleaning his sword and returned it to its sheath, buying time to steady himself. Once he was sure of his voice, he said, "Yeah, I'll be fine."

She smiled. "You know, you surprised me. To think that you've come so far."

"Look at my father, though," Ike protested. "I've still got such a long way to go."

"There's nothing you can do about that. After all, Commander Greil is—"

"Huh? What about my father?"

"Oh, nothing," Titania said airily.

"Nothing?" Ike repeated. "Now I'm really curious."

She shook her head. "Don't worry. You'll learn about it someday."

Before Ike could press any further, Titania turned her back and walked away. The villagers had smothered the last smouldering embers hidden in the blackened skeletons that had been their houses. She had to arrange for the company's payment. The others wandered over to take her place.

"Hey, Ike!" Boyd called. All sign of the serious warrior who had accused him of ruining the mission had vanished. "That wasn't bad for your first battle. Not as flashy as my first time, though."

Oscar bumped him playfully with a fist. "Yeah, you were a real standout. I'll never forget the sight of you so keyed up you broke your own axe."

"Oscar!" Boyd shouted. "Dang it. You didn't have to bring that up."

They play wrestled for a moment—until Boyd clipped Oscar's side with his elbow. The vulnerary was a useful bit of magic, but serious wounds took time to heal ever with its help. The cavalier would be tender for a while yet.

"Anyway," Oscar said through a pained wince, "Ike. Congrats on finishing your first mission. Welcome to the group."

Despite the day's failures and the absence of one important friend, Ike felt a small light blossom somewhere deep in his chest. Welcome to the group. That was the only thing he had ever wanted to hear.

Titania returned soon after with their payment safe in hand. "Everyone's all right? Then let's get going. I'm sure Mist has a nice hot meal waiting for us."

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A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the prologue! It's amazing to see how many people around the world still love Path of Radiance after all these years.

There were a few places in this chapter where I had to exercise some creative license. As the first real battle, there was a lot of tutorial conversation with the bandits very noticeably in earshot. That didn't seem realistic to me, so I tweaked it around until it felt right. Traveling was a fun puzzle as well. It felt weird to have some members of the company ride while others walked. A bit of expert advice led me to mules as a solution.

The other special challenge this chapter presented was how to handle scenes that don't include Ike. I know there are scenes coming up later with the Daein generals that will require a point of view shift, but I want to keep that to a minimum for Path of Radiance. Multiple povs is much more of a Radiant Dawn thing in my mind. So, to keep things as Ike-centric as possible, I made the assumption that kids growing up in a mercenary fort don't always follow the rules and that Ike and Soren can't possibly be as close as fans like to think they are without rubbing off on each other a little bit. With that in mind, eavesdropping didn't seem like much of a stretch.

Anyway, I'm super excited to write Rhys in the next chapter.

See you next week~


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